


Hopeless

by everyl1ttleth1ng



Series: Atoms and Molecules [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, how does one make a plane when one's beloved has been sucked into a rock?, mentions of Jemma's Monolith Period, zephyr one origin story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyl1ttleth1ng/pseuds/everyl1ttleth1ng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For so much of S3, Fitz just seemed flat - without hope, without joy. agl03 made a post about it on tumblr that really got me thinking. At the same time, we were all yearning to see Fitz and Simmons make-some-flipping-progress!! I decided to have a go at writing a scene I wouldn’t mind watching and it turned out to also be an origin story for Zephyr One.</p><p>Oh, and my claim that Giyera was dead was just me fully embracing the poetic license of fanfic. As we all know he lived on a bit longer!</p><p>Published on tumblr April 15, 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts).



In the aftermath, Fitz had caught her sitting on a crate watching the containment unit warily. She didn’t know why. Giyera was dead at last thanks to May, but seeing him again had put her on edge.

He had leaned over her shoulder, his voice gentle. “Why don’t you get your notes and go sit in the cabin. I’ll bring us some tea and we can work there for a while.”

She gave him the closest approximation of a smile she could manage and immediately grabbed her notebook and pen, getting up to follow his suggestion. Anything but dwell on what that monster had done to her.

The cabin’s neutral colours - white, tan, beige - were set alight by the sun streaming in through the unshaded windows, a relief in contrast to the tense darkness and flashing red lights of the control room. She collapsed into a large window seat, gazing out over the altocumulus and vaguely wondering what part of the globe went on with its business far below.

Fitz appeared a minute later, depositing two steaming mugs of tea onto the table between them and sliding his laptop out from under his arm. He sank into the chair opposite, opened his computer and started tapping away.

Jemma reached out for her mug and brought it close, holding it against her chest for warmth. She could feel the steam rising under her chin.

For a moment, she let herself just observe the man opposite her while he was deeply absorbed in his work.

The sunlight hit his golden brown hair and the scruff on the right side of his face, setting the scattered red strands on fire. When his eyes focused towards the top of the screen she could see the intensity of that blue, made all the more vivid by the reflection of the sky.

Whenever he stopped typing to think, he sat back, absentmindedly chewing his bottom lip and massaging his bad hand. He eventually looked up and caught her watching him.

“Does anyone ever come in here?” she asked, fishing for conversation.

Fitz shrugged. “I think May sat in here once - that time we picked her up from Maui. Other than that I guess we’re all usually too busy in the control room or with the containment units. It’s there or the bunks.” He watched her a moment, perceptive as always. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, trying to smile again.

“I’m sorry, Jemma,“ said Fitz softly. “I hate that you had to see him again.”

Jemma shrugged. “It’s better now that I know he’s gone.”

Fitz silently watched her a moment longer as if trying to make a decision. At last he spoke.

“I designed that seat for you, you know.”

Jemma’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“That seat. By the window. It was the first thing I marked on my original blueprint. I planned everything else around it.”

She blinked a few times. “You planned this seat for me?”

“You were gone.” His voice wavered. “You were gone and Coulson tried to distract me. He tasked me with building this.” Fitz casually waved his hand to indicate everything that currently held them thirty-nine thousand feet in the air. “So I started with that seat and worked my way out.”

“Fitz… I-“

“You always liked the window seat. Remember all those flights home from the Academy?”

“You always let me have it,” she replied. “You said you preferred the aisle seat so you could stretch your legs.”

He shrugged. “Learnt my lesson after having my shins crunched by the trolley every single flight.”

Jemma smiled. “So that seat?” She nodded towards where he was sitting by the window opposite.

“Yeah,” he nodded sheepishly. “This one was for me. They’re marked with a tiny S and F on every version of my design.”

Jemma leant forward a little in her seat. “But this is the first time you and I have sat here.”

Fitz nodded. “The thing’s achieved its full potential at last.”

“You really planned my seat first?”

Fitz rubbed at the back of his neck. “Jemma, you were all I could think about.”

She knew from his face as much as her own experience that he spoke the truth.

"If I was going to do anything, I had to find you in it first.” He turned to look out at the sky. “I couldn’t seem to find you anywhere else.”

She nodded towards the empty seat beside him as she swiped at an errant tear. “Who was going to sit there?”

Fitz turned back to see which seat she meant and shrugged. “I never cared.”

Jemma laid down her mug and got to her feet, leaning over to tug Fitz’s laptop gently out of his hands. She laid it down in her now empty place and nestled into the seat next to him, her body turned fully towards him and her knees curled up under her.

Fitz watched her intently, his face wearing that mix of vulnerability and awe that communicated so much.

She experimentally tugged on the arm rest between them and found, to her satisfaction, that it folded back.

“I like this design feature,” she whispered, sidling closer to him.

“It was so people could stretch out and sleep, Jemma,” he pointed out, his voice a little higher than usual.

“Fitz,” she sighed, nestling into his left side and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. She snaked her arms around his waist, fully conscious of how far she was pushing it. “I know we said we’d start over, but I don’t know if we can keep dancing around what’s between us.”

He actually pushed her aside, not rough enough to cause her pain, but there wasn’t much that was gentle about his touch or his tone. “Don’t do this, Jemma.”

She stared back at him, hurt, from the furthest edge of the double seat.

All his vulnerability had vanished, the walls had come back down.

“Fitz!” she gasped, but she had no idea what else to say.

His head fell into his hands. “I can’t lose you again, Jemma.”

She could just make out his muffled words.

“Do you blame me if I can’t shake the feeling that its inevitable?”

“No!” she insisted, shaking her head. “We’re inevitable remember? You and I together! Surely we’ve survived enough side-by-side to prove it to you by now.”

When he raised his head to look at her, she could see his blue eyes filling with tears. “I can’t be without you. You know I’m not strong enough.”

She reached tentatively for his hand. He let her take it.

“But what if I’m not strong enough to be with you, either?” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Jemma, I’m not even sure that I know how to hope for things anymore.”

The minute she heard the words she knew they perfectly described what she’d been seeing. Fitz wasn’t just serious or task-oriented or grumpy. The man she loved had been wasting away.

“Fitz, I’ve been where you are. You know I have. You were the one who pulled me out of it. Can’t you let me try to do the same for you?”

The look in his eyes turned desperate. “It’s different, Jemma. It’s not like we’re apart. I just… I just can’t bring myself to believe that you’ll stay.”

Jemma threw herself into his arms and felt a little thrill of triumph when this time they moved to hold her tight.

“I know words don’t count for much, Fitz, but we’ve never been good at them when they’re about us and I think we’ve got to start getting better.”

She felt him nod his agreement.

“So, let me make a first attempt.” Jemma pulled back until she could see his face. “Fitz, I’ve learnt that a lot of things are terrifyingly outside of my control. You can put it down to the capriciousness of the cosmos if you like, I don’t know how to make sense of it. But if I can exercise my will on one aspect of my future, it’s that I want to spend it with you.”

His eyes burned into her with what she desperately wanted to believe was the one thing he’d told her he lacked.

“And I don’t mean as best friends,” she charged on breathlessly. “Although of course I do, but you know I mean more than that by now, don’t you, Fitz? You know. I mean… I’m sure you know… you simply must know by now that I’m in love with you.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath but let her continue to talk, her eyes boring into his in her earnestness.

“I am, Fitz. I’m in love with you. And I want us to have all the things that people in love want. I want to be with you, I want to help you shoulder your burdens, I want to kiss you and make plans with you and fall asleep with you and wake up with you and… oh, I don’t know! All of it!”

The single tear that rolled down his cheek sparkled with all the light of the sun that streamed into the cabin.

“Can we start, Fitz?” she whispered. “Can we start now? Can you trust me enough to believe that with everything that’s actually in my power I’m going to stay?” She dropped her gaze to the window. “I can’t promise there won’t be forces that act on us from the outside. I never saw the things that separated us coming. But I can promise that I will choose you whenever I’m given a choice.”

Jemma looked up and found he’d shut his eyes tight as he listened, the tracks of his tears glistening on his cheeks.

“Do you believe me, Fitz?” she whispered.

He nodded, more tears falling from beneath his dark lashes.

She couldn’t stop her voice from quavering under the weight of her question. “Is it enough?”

“Jemma,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “It’s everything.”

She surged up onto her knees to kiss him, tasting salt on his lips as he pulled her closer.


End file.
